modest. If again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: This is called the reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I speak not true. This is called the reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie. This is called the countercheck quarrelsome; and so to the lie circumstantial, and the lie direct. Jaques. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Touch. I durst go no farther than the lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the lie direct; and so we measured swords, and parted. Jaques. Can you nominate in oraer now the degrees of the lie? Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print by the book: as you have books for good manners, I will name you the degrees. The first, the retort courteous; the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; the fifth, the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the lie with circumstance; the seventh, the lie direct. All these you may avoid but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as-If you said so, then I said so; and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. Jaques. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's good at any thing, and yet a fool! Duke. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter JAQUES DE BOYS, L. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two. I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly:- His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, Duke. Welcome, young man: Thou offer'st fairly to thy brother's wedding. A Dance-then enter HYMEN, attended. Good Duke, receive thy daughter. That thou might'st join her hand with his, [HYMEN goes to the top of the Stage, brings forward ROSALIND, and presents her to the DUKE-CELIA comes forward. Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To the DUKE. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To ORLANDO. Duke. (c.) If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he: I'll have no husband, if you be not he: Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. [To the DUKE. [TO ORLANDO. Hym. Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning. [TO PHŒBE. Duke. Oh, my dear niece, welcome thou art to me; Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. First, in this forest, let us do those ends, That, here, were well begun, and well begot: And after, every of this happy number, That have endured shrewd days and nights with us, According to the measure of their states. Play, music; and you brides, and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. Jaques. Sir, by your patience;-If I heard you rightly, The Duke hath put on a religious life, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Jaques. To him will I: out of these convertites [To the DUKE. Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it : You, to a love, that your true faith doth merit [To ORLANDO. You, to your land, and love, and great allies:" You, to a long and well-deserved bed : [TO OLIVER. [To SYLVIUS. And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd [TO TOUCHSTone. Touch. Come along, Audrey. [Exit with AUDREY, R. I am for other, than for dancing measures. Jaques. To see no pastime, I:-What you would have, I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit, L. Duke. Proceed, proceed; we will begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. EPILOGUE. Ros. If it be true, that "Good wine needs no bush," 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet, to good wine, they do use good bushes: and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues.-What a case am I in, then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor can insinuate with you, in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar; therefore, to beg, will not become me: my way is, to conjure you, and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women! for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as pleases them and I charge you, O men! for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive, by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that, between you and the women, the play may please. If I were among you, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, will, for my kind offer, when I make a courtesy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt omnes. THE END. |